Love as Aloe Perfoliata
by Valentine.B.L
Summary: Layton/Luke, Slightly AU feeling. Luke escapes denial of jealousy between Flora and Layton at the age of eighteen, and returns from college at twenty-four. What becomes of the two when they meet again? Rated M for later chapters, & an adult atmosphere.
1. Back after six years

**Author's note: **Ah! my first ever published fanfiction! I must warn you that this story only follows the aftermath of Curious Village, and then trails off into my own assortment of LaytonLuke love. I've only finished the first game, about to get the second, so please spare me! Hehe, I'd like to comment that those of you who've only played the first, or even just know the characters could probably follow along this fanfic, because it is so far ahead timespan-wise. Eventually this will lead into something more interesting, I'm sure! so enjoy the Layton/Luke! Thank You! :)

**P.s: **Although it seems like a downer in the beginning, the later chapters will blossom into a storyline that's not all angsty. ;D

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It's been _years_.

I left for school abroad in North America, the day after I was accepted into Harvard, and found Flora and the Professor busy shopping for an assortment of feminine clothing when I was to announce my acceptance. I figured they'd been together despite the age difference. I admit, I was jealous then. Almost as much as I am now, with photographs before me at the lobby of the Layton household, composed of no other face than Flora's or the Professor's or family. These pictures no longer exhibited my past's face. It made me cringe a bit, when I looked about.

"Flora dear, is that you?"

Oh dear God.

I was surprised by the fact that Layton and the girl hadn't changed the locks to the door, because the key I held with me all this time had no problem allowing me entrance. The weather outside was damp and dark, sort of gloomy for such an early time of day, so my coat and cap and hair were shades darker from the mist. I had just stepped off of the train moments before shimmying through crowds and winding up at the welcome mat of my former humble abode, breathless. I would've gone someplace to freshen up, but to be honest, I had no other place to go. With my parents passed, there I stood, in the man's mini foyer.

Whilst in America, I'd read dwarfed articles in the corner of my newspaper, of a mystery-solving professor with a blossoming young lady at his side, taking to interesting cases for the sake of a request for help. I figured these tidbits weren't printed at the front page simply because of Layton's 'request to keep Flora's life private', or because it was from another country. Either or, didn't matter to me.

I worked not as an apprentice there, but as a busboy and eventually a waiter. Hard to believe, I know. But I lived the life of an average young American, and the money became the coin for my everyday meals and entertainment. Layton paid for my schooling. Much back in time, when my father Clark was in great relations to the professor, a fund was initiated on my behalf of future schooling. And so, when my parents died, Layton took hold of that account and poured pounds into it on his own accord, and I was grateful for it. I had a fun time, when arriving alone at a university at eighteen, and now returning home at twenty-four. I feel that I've matured very much though, from little boy Luke, to Mr. Triton, the former apprentice to Professor Layton, and fledgling archaeologist.

But before me now was a staircase built to the left, and to my right, a hallway burrowing beneath the second floor, to a glass door that led to the kitchen and dining room. Now that I seem to tower, the small table I once thought tall was nothing but a few smidgens high, cluttered with old sepia pictures of the family not including me. And because it was gloomy outside too, a hue of grayed blues, the rooms directly to my left and right held no light of their own, but the faded sunshine filtered through the curtained windows. The only lights on in the house were the ones in the kitchen ahead, and the one chandelier dangling from the second floor ceiling above me.

"Flora?"

Again he called, his footsteps now audible, for his feet were clipping the wood that had been left unguarded by fine rug, and it echoed throughout the place. It was now that I tilted my head and caught sight of a dark silhouette to my left. It was maneuvering about the fine furniture of the den. I knew it was him.

I was caught in awe, and so was he. Caught mid-sentence.

Throughout the _entire_ trek to this man's home, I had imagined what it might be like for him to envelop me in his embrace the moment he set eyes on me, calling out my name in a feathery coo. S-something. _Anything._

But instead he stood there, half masked in the dark of the den just before the doorway's frame, silent with widened eyes.

I felt I had been rejected right there. Right on the spot.

Without hesitation, I snatched up my briefcase and turned to leave through the door that was now before me. As I reached for the knob, there seemed to be a slowed moment of chaos in which the professor attempted to hamper me from escaping. He just jumped at the chance to hold me back. His hands smacked the briefcase from my grasp, and ripped my sweaty palm from the door, leaving us both nervous, flustered, and heaving. I'm sure this left him with his brain racked and heart racing, as much as it did me. I stared at my palm in dismay. Forgive me, my thoughts were tremendously jumbled, so I stood motionless for a good few seconds in order to sort my thoughts.

"L-Luke."

I swallowed and kept sight of my palm.

"I..Came to drop off your key, but I'll be on my way.."

It was a lie, and he knew it well, but I didn't care. My voice now, was deeper and sort of rumbling, resonating on the dainty walls that I would be around, like I didn't know how to control my volume. But it isn't as deep as I'm making it out to be; a tad lighter than that. Brave sounding, I'd like to think.

"Luke .. My boy, come into the kitchen," he pleaded. Now more gathered, "_please_, it's the least I could do."

I really felt as if he were the sun. I couldn't bare to look him in the face, or he'd burn my eyes, and if he got too close to me, I felt like I'd melt. So damn bright, that man is. So slowly I nodded, removing my cap and coat, absentmindedly carrying my briefcase with me. Although I grew foot after foot since I was a boy, I still held myself but two inches shorter than the professor. I realized this as I followed him down the hall and into the kitchen, taking seat at the usual chair I sat at before I left.

Being a gentleman by nature, Layton drew me a cup of tea and set it onto the worn, rounded table with a wilted smile, being sure to catch my eyes and keep the contact, then he turned away to fix himself a cup. I deflated.

It was _uncomfortable._


	2. Rekindled

**Author's note:** I know it may sound lame, but the text is read so much better if you imagine Luke's British accent, hahaha. I forgot to add that in the previous author's note. xD

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I suppose the professor was desperately pushing towards a lighter, more optimistic conversation between us, what with his posture suddenly more erect, and the fact that he'd come barreling towards me with a blinding grin. Perhaps he'd decoded my new awkward personality within the few minutes I had been in his house, and was set to fix it.

"What brings you back Luke, hien? How were your years in college? Tell me all about it!"

His bellows of laughter after the questions just seemed outright unnatural to me. I made a face to show that I was unhappy with his own synthetic happiness. A moment of silence.

"I'm a scientist now."

I lied.

"Ahaha! I knew it, Luke! Something so great, so great indeed!"

He reached over the table to pat my shoulder then. I felt rigid, and my teeth were clenched. I didn't respond but with a single nod and looked away in flushed shame. It would be impossible to admit that in actuality, I had become an archaeologist, just as the professor taught, following in the footsteps of my 'beloved Layton' or s-some other nonsense. Again silence castled over us, until I think he realized that I am not the same youthful Luke I was years ago. He withdrew his hand and sat before me eying my teacup, momentarily defeated. Approximately eight seconds passed before the professor parted his lips and spoke again.

"You should stay here tonight, Luke. How long are you here for?" The professor smiled his best at me now, and awaited my response without movement.

"Where's Flora? You were calling for her." Wasn't I a banger?

"Oh, she went out for groceries. You should try her vegetable soup, it's quite good. Very delicious."

When Layton's eyes focused on something other than myself, I had the chance to observe him properly from afar. To be honest, he hadn't aged too much at all. He still smelled of cologne and Granny Smith apples, and ultimately kept free of wrinkles, the smart fellow. I wasn't surprised to find the professor in yet the same attire I last saw him in, the only difference being a new, more lush array of colors which told me that he'd just bought some new clothes.

Although I strayed from the question at first, I came around and agreed to staying the night. Naturally keeping mind to my memories, I made for my old bedroom. As I walked, an armful of a wet coat and cap, the other handling my briefcase, I realized that nothing seemed to change but the photographs hung in the halls and over the tables.

All of Flora and Layton.

I stood before my old bedroom door, Layton following up the stairs behind me casually. He went on about how Flora improved at fine cuisine, and was a dear at keeping the place benignly tidy. My hand turned the knob just as I'd heard the last steps up made by the professor, and before my mind could react, he had yelped to halt me. But to no avail did I yield when I turned to face him. Just as I whipped about, my expression being quite stunned as to what all the ruckus was about, Layton's limbs curled around my waist to shut the door. My _bedroom_ was even off limits to me. Exhausted with my professor's peculiar behavior, I stepped aside and awaited further instruction.

"Now Luke, I've got a spare room just for you." He now paced ahead of me, with a stagger that in common body language, one could read that he was heavily embarrassed. Wonder why.

"Here you are my boy, a room for you to stay. Go ahead and set your belongings where they need be, and we can begin for supper if you'd like to assist me?"

To be honest, I was very much confused and quite suspicious. But I suppose it was none of my business. It seemed though, as if the man had just picked up as before and carried on, but I didn't feel the same way at all. I felt older, in more control. I felt that I knew my reasons for doing what I did, leaving when I did.

Gingerly I lay my few items over the desk that had been in sight, from no light but from the hallway, and remembered that the spare was once Flora's room. I shut the door behind me, just as the professor was locking what was once my room up, and we headed downstairs together. A few minutes passed, and before I knew it, I'd been peeling carrots at the counter alongside a man fumbling with a stalk of celery. I think Layton has a natural way of coaxing me into a comfortable environment whether I liked it or not, because now I piped up and forgot all about silly Flora. I didn't even expect her to walk through the door.

After laughing about my horrible animal-related disasters, the professor asked me what seemed to be a random question.

"So tell me Luke, why did you decide to go to Harvard rather than Gressenheller, where I teach?"

We were now chopping the cleaned and pruned vegetables. And suddenly.. the atmosphere was awkward.

"I-I," I hadn't any idea how to react. With a spur of the moment, I answered with what thoughts I had!

"I was bullied here. Often, actually." Oh dear, inwardly I cringed.

"Oh really?" Layton seemed somewhat concerned. This meant that not one bit did he believe me. His head tilted downward at me, with an eyebrow cocked and a smirk quite visible. I chuckled and shoved him lightly with my elbow. The man seemed to have cracked my long dried skin, and I'm smiling again. Like a fool.

I've never had a woman though, despite the numerous offers I've gotten, and countless friends I equipped myself with while overseas, and I never had a man, no matter their similar appearance to the love of my life. This somewhat troubled my peers and close college professors, for they figured that I was in some sort of pernicious state of mind, and would soon become some queer fellow. But I reassured them that I had just lost my war in love.

Now it was darkening into later hours in the evening, and the small boiling pot was brimming with a vegetable soup, recipe stolen from Flora or some other. The professor and I passed the time with countless riddles we had come upon while I was away, and chortled at the pugnacity Layton performed while enduring a puzzle I'd gotten from a German classmate. We ate the soup, and I agree, it _was_ quite good. Only though, because we made it.

Professor Layton gradually fell into puddles of more exhaustion, fighting to keep alert but to no avail, and apologized to me that he needed to retire. It turns out that Flora and him had just returned from another mystery, and he had time off from his teaching job. So I understood. what it was that kept me up, I would say it was either the scent of the old townhouse, or awaiting the arrival of Flora Reinhold. And so I waited. Soon after the man traveled up into his bedroom had I realized that although I came from so far, I had nothing but the one outfit I'd been fashioning the entire day, and no nightwear. I scowled at myself for not asking the professor sooner for spare clothing, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like I'd planned to live here anyways, so it was alright. I polished the kitchen, and even reorganized what 'Missy Flora' had set up while I was away.

It had reached one in the morning, and she did not come home. My mind was boggled that Layton would fall into slumber without worry that his little girl was in a danger of some sort. So I sat at the foot of the stairs, irately staring down the face of the front door. I rested my elbows over my knees, and my chin in both of my hands, waiting and waiting, and waiting. Yet, until two into the morning, I had heard nothing but the ticking of a clock from upstairs. Then, the creak of the door startled my half daze, and I jumped up to tower over the female.

"Oh Professor, you didn't have to wait for me all night you know, I wa--. Luke."


	3. The talk

We ended up in the kitchen.

Flora wouldn't allow me rest without chatting over a drink first, so she poured me a glass of Merlot and we began to talk. I diluted it with a bit of water to prevent a hangover in the morning, but she didn't. Slipping into her chair across from me, she took a swig of her wine and slowly, venomously, looked up to meet my gaze. I felt as if I'd been staring at a magazine mannequin, makeup and hair, dress and all. She certainly did flower though, with her strawberry blonde hair in loose curls that fell passed her shoulders. She now fashioned a sparkling mesh, pink and gold cocktail dress with a shawl at the crook of her elbows. She looked as if she'd just gone out.

"So Luke," she mused. I felt as if we'd just begun an interrogation. "Why've you come back?"

Well, no use in keeping it to myself if I was to live in London now, right? I sipped my drink and shut my eyes for a moment.

" Graduated. Got a job here in London." She perked up a bit, and licked her lips before she spoke.

"Oh! Congratulations! What job've you gotten?"

"A-Archaeologist."

"Wow, did you tell the Professor?"

"No."

"Why not? He would've been so delighted to know all this, Luke."

I set my elbows on the table and cupped my hands to my mouth, then slid them down my face in a manner that read "what the _hell_ am I doing?" To be honest, I refused to think of what would it would be like to live here back when I was in America. Every thought I had of London or the Professor I pushed far, far back into my mind. I should have thought of them though, so I wouldn't be in this dilemma now. She caught me off guard then, with quite a question.

"Why did you leave?" 'You bastard,' I bet she was thinking. I wouldn't have thought it that way if her tone hadn't sounded so irate. Her eyes reminded me of her stepmother's back at Curious Village for a moment, and I heard a click. I think it was her teeth grinding.

Oh how I had been awaiting this moment.

"Simple. I was just moving out of the way to let you and the professor go at it. I saw it, don't tell me I'm wrong, Flora." Believe me, I tried hard to chuckle it off. Usually I would expect this woman to defend herself like a teary-eyed ball of regret, but instead, it seems she's swallowed up a sort of anger towards me that she had been waiting to let out.

"Oh please, Luke," she blew, shaking her head at me as if I was some child. I would have believed her back when we were young and together often, but I suppose over the years, I'd been so convinced that they were in fact together that I barely cared to listen. "You think I was out and about with the man that was just kind enough to play as my father? Do you think we're together _now_? Do you?" She demanded an answer now, her dainty hands pounding the table. Funny though, because our argument was no higher than a cluster of whispers.

"I don't think Flora, I _know_," I hissed, leaning forward to emphasize.

"You are so _bloody _ridiculous, you have no idea Luke."

Damn. I was losing.

"Please explain then, Flora-dear." And with that, we began our conversation of the past.

You want to hear something that I regret finding out? In actuality, neither Flora nor the Professor had any feelings towards one another.

"Fine. Let me begin. The day after you left, the Professor was in a frenzy and only I was there to pull the poor man back together. Do you realize how much you bloody mean to him, imbecile? Day after day he woke up with the words 'good morning, Luke!' just as he always had when you ran into his little room to wake him, except for the fact that you're no longer there! He believed you would be back in a matter of days, and when that had become a lie, he believed months, a year, years. Every day he has to say your name. For heaven's sake, do you see the house? Do you see your pictures here anymore? He gathered them up like a rodent or something, and put them into your old room; his new room, by the way. I personally think the man has gone mad, but I love him so much like a father that I can't bring myself to let him go and live with my fiance. I have been engaged longer than expected because Layton refuses to sell the damned house and live with us in case you happened to have come back. And here you are!" Flora's arms flew up in exhaustion. She finished her speech with a loud and somewhat riveting sigh. This now left me in a state of surprise. Speechless.

She then slouched back and shut her eyes, a few moments passing by before she rubbed her temples. After the entirety of her rant, I actually did feel like a child. I was flushed and hot, embarrassed and without words. Was this true or not? But why would she lie to me?

I gingerly sat up and pursed my lips before I admitted to her that I was sorry. I apologized and hugged her abruptly. We spoke slow and softly, and she embraced me after this long, hard period of years. We smiled, chuckled, and spent the rest of the time together of how we'd come to be. As I spoke to her, she told me she realized that she had fallen in love with a very wealthy man, and admitted to me that Layton was undoubtedly in love with me, which of course I ignored. Whether the man said it or not, he loved me she said. Breaking our conversation's flow with a yawn, I put our glasses into the sink.

"We should retire, Luke."

"I agree. Ah, but-"

"Yes?"

"I.. Haven't any clothing. Not even nightwear."

Adorably she scolded me, tapping me over the nose and instructed me to head off to bed. As we headed upstairs, she hushed me and had me open Layton's door myself. Flustered and pink, I opened my former bedroom and found that all of my pictures had truly been in this small place. I stood in awe for a few moments, but the Professor stirred, causing me to jump and scurry to find an outfit for slumber. I don't know if he caught a glimpse of me, but I slipped out in silence only to return to my room, breathless.

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**Author's note:**

Short I know, guys! but I just wanted their talk to be in one chapter. I have time to write more, so expect chapters to come! Thank you!


	4. Beginning Again, An Old Place, A New Man

**Author's note: **Hey guys! I know, I know, I took FOREVER to update. But the good news is that I have a working computer now, AND I HAVE INTERNET. Great, right? Sort of what you need to continue fanfiction, hahaha. Well, I hope you guys enjoy this rough ride with Luke as of right now. This entails him laying the foundation for his life in London!

**Remember!: **

**-**The story **sounds** better when you think of an older voice, and a British accent.

-The story **LOOKS** better, when the font is in verdana or serif font, has a dark background, and the margins are set to half!

It makes the story much easier to read.

I love you all, and I thank you for patiently waiting for the chapters to be updated. I will be able to post more chapters, I promise!

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I woke to the light clanging of pots and pans beneath me. No other day would the sun's rays have felt as bright and hot, a smile so effervescently beaming into the gold Victorian room in which I lay. Unable to take the bull by its horns, I shielded my eyes from the light with my forearm, and traced the embossed wallpaper with idle fingertips, spending unnecessary amounts of time in bed.

Eventually though, thanks to my horrid curiosity, I padded to the staircase to eavesdrop. But, as the Gods may have it, I found myself before that frosted kitchen door, listening for a sign of life as I once did as a child. Actually, I was waiting for the right time to intrude, but that's beside the point.

"Well do you want to wake him with our seemingly incessant bickering or what?" Said Flora, rather nonchalantly; almost pouting. Professor Layton began with a smart remark in my defense when I cut him off with my dastardly awkward gait and apprehensive manner of avoiding Layton's eyes.

"Tha-," I shouted, then corrected myself, "Thank – Thank you for the free lodging, Flora… Professor,"

I nodded at him, still wary.

"Oh nonsense, Luke!" She seemed delighted to have me in the kitchen. I wonder why.

"We've made you a _glorious_ breakfast, so I hope you enjoy it!"

"Enjoy it, you aren't ea-"

"I've got errands to run, I'll fetch the two of you for dinner tonight! Au Revoir!"

And off she went, chuckling loudly as if her motive were to make the entire townhouse echo, emphasizing its loneliness. We were alone.

"_So…_ We're alone for breakfast." I muttered. It was getting more humid by the minute.

"That doesn't bother you, does it? We can dine on the terrace if you'd like to see townspeople while you eat," the professor chuckled, edging my way. Damn it all. I didn't know what to do, or even what to say for that matter. It seemed as if last night's rekindling had vanished into thin air and somewhere, resided in my dreams for me, but... But for him, he'd just continued out his even after he woke.

We ended up eating in the kitchen, because to be honest, I'd no change of clothes, and I would _not_ have the town assuming that I'd slept with such a, a respectable man, let alone slept in his pajamas… No matter how much I'd prefer it to be true.

It was silent. No more chattiness I'd heard earlier, but a quiet, yet happy professor. Naturally, I observed how carefully he cut his eggs into triangles before skewing them with his fork and taking a bite. He caught me off guard when he mentioned the clothes.

"So you're wearing my pajamas."

I choked on my food, and yet he continued with a laughed "did you, hahaha, come into my room to take a peak? And steal my bedtime clothes while you were at it? Boy?"

He- he found it rather amusing, but there I was, coughing up a storm and turning red from embarrassment. Oh dear god. This wasn't happening. I hadn't realized; of course he would notice his own nightwear! "Goodness boy, it's okay," he laughed, before becoming hesitant, then worried. "Luke. Luke, are you alright?" He stood and made to put his hands on me, but I pushed him away and breathed hard.

It seems strange when I narrate it, but I felt my heart harden when I pushed him away and stumbled towards the sink. Breathing so deeply, I was afraid I'd frightened him, my salted eyes staring. I bet I looked quite ghastly, but… You'd understand if you were in my place. "Stop it," I choked. "Stop it." Again and again, I said it. Thunderstruck, the man made not for me.

So I headed for the kitchen door, and out I went, going up the stairs. I couldn't take all of this emotion, partly in my opinion because whilst in America, people were lonely, kept to themselves and whatnot. It wasn't all too strange, but if you sat at a diner and observed the city's people, you would see countless, if not many, human beings silently making way to get where they need to be. Such a dark and dreary atmosphere, and I admit, it shaped me. And with that, what would one expect of me?

I packed my belongings as fast I could, fumbling with briefcase handles and belt buckles as I changed. From downstairs I heard Layton calling for me, questioning and questioning. About where I was going, what I was heading to do, who I was to see, where I would stay, and worst of all, when I would see him next..

I answered as I began down the stairs. Sucking in a bit of air to mask my nerves-on-end, I proceeded to take steps downward, noticing Layton in my periphery, who was waiting patiently by the door although his voice said otherwise. He was nervous, I could tell.. And somewhat disheartened.

"I have a meeting, so I'm going out to find myself some decent apparel. I'll find a place to stay, don't worry, and don't you remember what Flora said? I might see you at her dinner. " All of the words came out of my mouth as if a snake were slithering out of it, smooth and quite literal. My movements now had become all matter-of-fact, as I kept eyesight from him the entire time I spoke. Just before opening the door and exiting, I dropped a satin bundle within his arms.

"Your nightwear, Sir Layton." 

Eventually, I found myself in front of a small corner shop branded "Penn and Company." From the looks of it, when I walked in, it was a collaboration of two business owners- a clothier, and a suit seller- with the area to my left fashioning a glamorous window for all to see, passing by, the men being fitted for their garments atop a stool, and to my right, a few rooms each displaying different sellers of suits and menswear. I suppose I was in the right place at the right time.

"Hello sir! Welcome to Penn and Company. May I be of any assistance to you? My name is Ernest if you need anything at all."

Nodding at what seemed to be a tailor, I made my way towards the numerous aisles adorned with clothes, and had at them. What catastrophe of a wardrobe I was creating, I don't know, but somehow, I'd come to have an armful.

"You know sir, You've got quite interesting taste. " Ernest mentioned, pins between his plumped lips. He set them down next to my feet, and reached for a few of my chosen garments.

"Like this here, " He.. He held up a hat and coat. "This reminds me of a man I'd seen in papers. A brown and red top hat? A brown coat? On you, sir? " He laughed in disbelief, " Oh good heavens, no! Don't do it to yourself. You've got such good taste in the other fine garbs you've got laying here."

I stared at the coat and hat the entire time I'd been fitted. Damn Layton. Damn Ernest. Damn. Damn. Damn. And so, I absconded before he brought my ticket out. Why, you ask? I was in need of financial assistance, and impulsively went to the professor's old bank. It turns out, not all of the funds for college were used up, and the man never came around to taking what was initially my father's and his, back. I suppose he meant for me to keep it.

The banks of London are magnificent. Each clicking step I made created a flashbulb memory in which I was brought back to my adventurous days with the man whom I'd fallen in love with. That damned reassuring face, that warm smile, surfaced behind my eyelids and refused to dissipate. Naturally my mind went elsewhere, crept out of that innocent thought and continued to elaborate. I stood unaware before my banker, unable to break free of the daydream that just occurred. Skin, bodies broken in sweat, raspy voices, moans. I could not escape, and yet it .. Hurt so good , I suppose.

"May I help you, sir? "


	5. Attending a Reinhold's Dinner

**Author's note:**

Wow, guys. It's been quite a long time..

I'm actually in college now, and it feels almost surreal that I am able to continue this fanfiction. I've always loved this pairing so I couldn't find it within myself to let this story go, so here I am, working away at it again. I am terribly sorry for not keeping it updated as I haven't found the time between work and school... Ah, no excuses now though! Especially with how many alerts this must be sending out ;

Anyways, keep in mind with all of the British accent mumbo-jumbo I mentioned beforehand in the author's notes and this should come off as a better read.

**PS: I know this only continues after curious village has left off, but there are many of you who might be reading this that have played most of the games if not all of them. I _am_ aware of Clive Dove, etc but please don't think of this Luke Triton as a remake of him. To be honest, only a couple of Professor Layton games had been out in the states and unwound future was not one of them so I had no idea he existed anyways.

Thank you for reading!

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All I could imagine were Hershel's bare hands having at me and my clothing, that unusual sound of seams ripping so close to my ears. I imagined my own voice speaking to him, prompting him to do things to me that I could never find it in me to allow past my lips. The man's sweaty palm had begun to form around the backside of my neck, the other yanking the clasps of my slacks open and his tongue—

"Layton…"

"Sir? May I help you? "

"Hm? Oh. Uhm," I flushed, realizing that I'd been standing at the counter, gripping the insides of my pockets. I quickly withdrew my wallet and spoke to the banker about my absence, my visa, and reason for returning. He was a benign and man, carefully inspecting my Identification card with his eyes flickering from the photo to my now perspiring visage. It made me uncomfortable how untrusting the man felt with me, and it made me wonder if Hershel took the step to bar me from my own savings. So I piped up in hopes of ensuring my

"P-Professor Hershel Layton of Gressenheller, do you know him?"

"Yessir, I do. He is here often, paying mind to your dwindling inheritance, " the man joked, eying me one last time before he gathered a massive amount of paperwork and heading towards the back; towards the vault, I assumed. _So he knew our relationship. _With an extra hand, he flapped his white glove in the air and called out to me "If you would stay put sir, I'll bring the notes. "

It was during this time that I turned away from the hustle and bustle behind the counter to face a rather content plethora of others, going about their busy day in London. Mostly men were situated near me, due to the fact that I was at the bank. I began to primp nonchalantly in my new clothes, adjusting the collar of my blouse where I'd begun to perspire, only to notice quite a few sets of eyes making their way to my own curious gaze. Naturally I checked to make sure there were no mishaps occurring with my attire, especially what with me literally wearing a majority of my wardrobe out of Penn and Company, only to find that there couldn't have been anything out of order.

It racked my brain why there were so many men giving me these looks; charming faces that bothered to ogle at what I had to offer, it felt like—and it left me feeling almost completely insecure. It wasn't as if I were some fine dandy, nothing like a man mindlessly expressing his love for another man or acting as if to sell oneself among the streets like I'd seen so many do on Spain's narrow bends; you know, they were the most tempting souls I'd ever come across in my then lackluster life, and I envied the fact that they could become so passionately bound to a stranger while my stubbornness sentenced me to a much more mature and respectable being that would never, ever become entangled in something so difficult as I. But as far as I was concerned, my demeanor was much friendlier and publically appropriate. . Perhaps my attire was too much.

Finally I arrived at the townhouse I'd just left hours ago, and managed to make it up the stairs to knock before I heard a shrill voice call out my name. I turned around, not surprised in the least that it was Flora. She mentioned how dashing I looked and ordered me into the car, where I would wait for both her and the professor to join me once she fetched him. Although that jealousy I once had with the Layton-Flora relationship never truly disappeared, I absolutely did not want to cause trouble. After all, that was what a gentleman did, was it not? I smiled graciously at the bird and crawled into the car, chatting with the chauffeur. Hearing an inhale cut short, I instinctively turned to face the door after staring out of the window for quite some time. The moment that man caught eye of me, he was suddenly unable to breathe. My face grew a tad too warm to my liking and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. My black blazer and slacks, silvered necktie and grayed vest seemed to provide enough attention alone was what I thought. He-He was just awestruck at how high the thread count was, a-at how opaque clothing could be. Right?

"You're... looking quite nice. I like that. That looks nice," he breathed, climbing into the back of the car only to be seated next to me.

"Thank...you, Professor."

The car'd begun, and I leaned as far away from him as I could, honestly, but I couldn't help but listen in on his seemingly random mumbling; "Yes... Very age appropriate," I heard at some point. From his tone I could gather that he was trying his best to convince himself that I was not the boy I used to be... or at least that was what it sounded like.

For the rest of the ride, the two of us were quiet. We did not speak directly to the other, but we did respond to the incessant chatter Flora provided to keep us from drowning in silence; for most who haven't seen her as of late, it would be hard to believe she even speaks at all, who began to explain the dinner plans. We were to enter, banter with the other guests and establish relations, acquaintances, etc. Once the butler comes about and relieves us of our small beverages, we are to have dinner. Apparently this was to be a welcoming feast for both sides of the bride and groom's families to familiarize themselves with one-another. My arrival to London seemed in sync with their timing. How precious.

When the car pulled around to the front of what seemed to be a chateau, professor Layton and I were left at the entrance whilst Flora was driven closer to her fiancé's terrace. _Good luck to you, Hershel_, I thought as he exited the vehicle and made his way towards the entrance . I took a breath myself, and proceeded to enter.

The foyer, the tall sculptures, the lights- everything; everything seemed to emanate grandeur, opulence in all of its discovered glory. The smell of the place was familiar too; as if I were in the Reinhold house once again and yet a ballroom as well. The colours were luscious golds, cream, and burgundy, the textures marble and wood. I'd seen so many places like it, and yet I had not. There were numerous women and men strolling about, mingling, and somehow I didn't feel out of place. The professor hadn't either I suppose, because after glancing at me, he made his way over to a group of men and women I'd never met before in my life and smiled. I grew stiff as I stared, hard with an ugly frown and standing too rigidly for my own good; I could even feel the jealousy welling up in my eyes so much so that they provided a glint to anyone that dared to look my way. Too bad there weren't any photographers around then or I would have probably kept the photo. One very embarrassing moment in my life, indeed.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

I jumped, slowly rotating my upper-half to find a young man pleasantly smiling. His hair was an angelic blonde that flowed in soft waves near to the length of the bottom of his chin, which to me, contrasted nicely with the classic black suit, white vest, and red tie that fit all too-well.

"N-Nice to meet you," I said. Blinking a few times, more surprised, I turned to face him and met him properly. The man switched from grasping the red wine with his right hand to his left before reaching for my outstretched hand, as I did with my cane.

"You must be from Flora's side of the family, or else I would have met you before, I'm sure." He took a swig and grinned.

"Haha, how very observant of you," I laughed, " Yes. I am related to Flora. Not by blood, but her and I've created a sort of adopted family with the professor."

" The professor?" He raised a brow, glancing at professor Layton. Then he smiled, and I couldn't help but stare at his teeth. They seemed to be the most perfect description of this man's personality: sharp, devilish, beautiful - but altogether something I didn't want to become familiar with.

"Uh, yes, Professor Layton sort of took us in when we were younger.."

"Yes, yes, I heard about that," he motioned shooing a fly away then continued, "but I never heard what your name was... Wait, perhaps I'll remember from what Aunt Augusta told me... Triton, was it? Landon, Ladler, Lake..."

"Luke. Luke Triton."

"Ah, yes! How very nice to meet you, Luke. My name is Claude. Bailey to be exact, but I prefer Claude to what my father calls me. The attractive also find it rather...charming," He chuckled. The way he held himself somehow made me wary, and slightly flustered. Although nearly my height, if not more than a few inches, he boasted a serious wealth-induced disorder and reminded me partially of...

"When we dine, will you be sitting beside anyone in particular, Luke?" He asked, interrupting my subconscious scrutiny. The way he'd prepared himself before asking me was as if he were ready to be rejected. Yet, when I admitted that I would in fact not be sitting next to anyone in particular, Claude's eyes lit up instantly. He whispered a little something to himself momentarily, then rested a hand at the small of my back as he searched the room for a pair of eyes. On the outside, I had to admit that I was feeling a bit high and mighty, attaching myself to this man and gracing everyone with my jubilant aura, but in reality, I was feeling terrible. That churning within someone when they felt brimming with guilt was the exact portrayal of me. I would nervously turn both left and right to look for the professor as the man was touching me, but I was unfortunate every time to find no familiar hat, no familiar voice.

Then suddenly a light bell sounded as it was accompanied by a large and daunting man, dressed in butler's attire. He took a breath and cleared his throat with eyes half-lidded, hoping to grasp everyone's attention.

"Dinner is served. If you would please take your seats."

When he spoke, the crowd was momentarily hushed. Then, as if a silent cue had been emitted, they began to speak again, this time all at once. It made me dizzy, when I thought about it. I couldn't hear even the slightest bit of Hershel's voice, and it was driving me mad, and I know I was panicking. But before I could register that there were in fact two hands now escorting me to my seat, I was finally able to detect his voice. But it was too late by then…

"Luke, my boy! I see you've met someone!"

I tried my best, I really did, to look back at the two whom had been trekking past all of the ladies and gentlemen that'd come for Flora's dinner, but in the end I could not; unless I wanted to make a scene. Instead I just carried on as if I were keeping to myself, as if there weren't two men politely grappling behind my back, as if this was the best dinner party I'd ever attended.

"Yes, profeessor. His name is Claude, –"

"You don't say!"

"Sir, My name is Bailey, I've heard so much about you!"

"Pleased to meet you, sir."

They both pulled me in opposite directions. I felt as if I were in one of the silent films that I'd just seen a few days back. The way they simultaneously made to tug at my suit, one left and one right, felt a bit. . Animated and rehearsed; though I could tell by the tone of Hershel's voice that it was in no way a joke. His voice was a tad gruff, more assertive. Like I was his property and he would have me sit in no other spot than right beside him. However, being the yellow-bellied fool that I was, I assisted Claude in his tug of war, and made for the left side of the table.


End file.
